


Tales Of Brave Ulysses

by bakedgoldfish



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-04-09
Updated: 2003-04-09
Packaged: 2019-05-15 04:57:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14783973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bakedgoldfish/pseuds/bakedgoldfish
Summary: Late nights, early mornings, and the gang's working.  Or something like that.





	Tales Of Brave Ulysses

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Tales Of Brave Ulysses**

**by:** Baked Goldfish 

**Category/Characters:** Humor, Ensemble  
**Rating:** YTEEN, for one wannabe-bad word  
**Summary:** Late nights, early mornings, and the gang's working.  Or something like that.  
**Disclaimer:** TWW is NBC's, Tales Of Brave Ulysses is, quite possibly, Eric Clapton's, and I'm not making money on either.  Don't sue me.  
**Author's Note:** First season.  Fluff.  Vaguely ensemble.  

"Dammit," Josh muttered, scooting back in his chair; the chair legs screeched and shuddered against the carpet, voicing their protests. The soda fizzed out of the can and onto his trousers regardless, sizzling like water on a hot stove as the chair screeched some more under his abuse.  Chuckles covered him like wind through a maple tree in autumn, and he cursed again. 

"Josh forgot his GoodNites," Mandy quipped, tapping a perfect fingernail against the sides of her own soda can.  Tap, tap, one tap per second, frustratingly metered as she stared at Josh. 

He huffed and grabbed some napkins.  "Someone shook the can," he muttered, scratching recycled paper against his crotch.  "Ow." 

Chopsticks clacked together as Toby pointed them at Josh.  "That would be you, my friend?"  He clacked his chopsticks again, somehow managing to make them sound accusing, before going back to his sweet and sour chicken. 

"I-"  Josh stopped scratching and started patting, muffled huffs of paper against twill, like coughs turning into wheezes.  "I didn't.  I shook Mandy's can." 

"And you think I didn't shake yours back?"  She opened her can with the most perfect pop, loud and sharp with no only the faintest hiss of bubbles breaking the surface of her cola.  "Silly man." 

"This is why I've always liked you, Mandy," CJ said, her voice convoluted with laughter, somehow graceful and awkward at the same time.  "I've always said, 'I always did like that Mandy.'"  Her laughter faded into a barely noticeable chuckle, humming away like snow on the television. 

Josh made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough, and patted his pants even harder.  "You've never liked her," Josh said. 

"No, there was that one time in Reno," Mandy said, joining CJ as their laughter rebuilt.  The room fizzled and smacked with their laughs, sirens on a rocky shore, and the men joined in, unable to resist their call. 

Then a chair scuffed again, and they all quieted down as Sam got up to raise the volume on the radio.  "Listen to this," he said, and suddenly Eric Clapton's voice rose above the remaining late-night snickers.  "Listen to that guitar work." 

"And you know you cannot leave her, for you touched the distant sands with tales of brave Ulysses," Josh began, off-key. 

"Stop that," Sam said, tossing a piece of Kung Pao at Josh's head. "You can't sing." 

"Clapton's not even singing," Josh sputtered.  "He's - he's talking, with a beat." 

"He's still singing better than you.  Just listen to the-"  Sam held up his hand as the lyrics came to an end, and the guitar took off into a measured chaos, rising and falling and twitching like a seizure before fading into the radio station's theme song.  "They should make more music like that." 

"I can sing," Josh said.  He tossed the wet napkins onto the table, and they landed with a messy squish.  "And why'd you throw chicken at my head?" 

"Because it's four in the morning and you can't sing," Mandy said on Sam's behalf. 

"Thank you, Mandy," Sam said, bowing his head in her direction. "And-" 

"Children, do you need a chaperone?" 

CJ yelped and stood up to quickly, knocking her chair over with a loud whump; Toby cursed, Josh spilled more soda onto his front, and Mandy dodged to get out of the way of CJ's falling chair, which hit Sam's shin with a nasty-sounding whack before thudding to the ground. 

Meanwhile, Leo calmly picked up a fortune cookie.  A crinkle of plastic, a crack of cookie, and Leo stared at his staff as they tried to put themselves back together.  "It's four in the morning, you know." 

"Y'know, I think someone mentioned that earlier," Josh said helpfully.  Somewhere between his fearful gaze and Leo's hardlined glare, a clock ticked off the seconds.  

Leo chewed thoughtfully, and for a good while, that and the sound of the ticking clock were the only things to be heard in the conference room.  "Was that Cream?" 

"It was - yeah, on the radio," Sam stuttered.  "Leo, how do you do it?" 

"Do what?" 

"Look like... "  Sam made some unintelligible mumbling noise and waved at Leo's state of dress.  "That." 

Leo shifted his feet, his shoes scuffing against the carpet, and stared down at himself.  "Look like what?" 

"Like it's not four in the morning," CJ said, picking her chair up and sitting back down in it.  "Like it's no different than normal." 

Fighting down the urge to feel thrown by this type of attention, Leo pointed at Toby.  "Toby doesn't look any different from normal." 

"That's because Toby always looks like it's four in the morning," Toby said sagely, scraping his chopsticks against the bottom of his container.  "There any more sweet and sour?" 

"There was sweet and sour and someone was holding out on me?" Bartlet said, striding into the room.  CJ's chair hit the floor again.  "And should I ask why your crotch is wet, Josh?" 

Leo turned and stared at him, though his eyes were more mischievous than before.  "Should I ask why you're looking at Josh's crotch, sir?" 

"I wasn't-"  Jed stared at Leo before turning away, vaguely vexed. "What was that I heard earlier?" 

Sam paled, then reddened; it may not have been an overly healthy reaction.  "You heard that in the Residence?" 

"Well, to be honest, I was just down the hall," Bartlet replied, grabbing for the remaining fortune cookies; more crinkling, more cracking and then the cookies sans fortunes were in his mouth. 

"You were in the Oval, sir?" Leo asked. 

"Yeah," Bartlet replied, but through the cookies, it sounded more like, "Geg." 

"In your robe?" 

Bartlet glared at Leo, but found it ineffective.  Turning back to his staff again, he asked, "What are these guys doing here this early, anyway?" 

"Planning a coup, sir," Toby grumbled.  He seemed saddened by the lack of sweet and sour anything. 

"It's about damn time somebody got around to that," Bartlet groused. "Toby, you're my new chief of staff.  Leo... I'll find something for you to do.  Promise.  Maybe a nice coloring book or something." 

They all stared at him for a few moments, and, again, the only thing to be heard was the clock ticking.  Nobody was sure where the clock was at that point, but wherever it was, it was loud. 

"Back meds," Mandy said suddenly. 

"Back meds," the rest of the staff concurred. 

"Back meds?" Bartlet asked, confused.  "I already took them." 

"And now you're going to sleep, sir," Leo said, grabbing Bartlet's elbow.  The door clicked shut behind them as Leo took Bartlet away. The senior staff continued to stare after their President, listening as their voices faded down the hallway. 

Josh, still staring at the door, reached for his soda.  He was a centimeter off, and it knocked over, aluminum clanking against the not-quite-antique wood table.  For the third time that night, carbonation hissed as the now room-temperature liquid sloshed and dribbled down onto his pants.  

"Dammit!" 

-end- 


End file.
